m, before he was
gone from her life forever.

The wall of blackness against which she ran did not frighten her. When
the brush tore at her face and hair she swung free of it, and stumbled
on. Twice she ran blindly into broken trees that lay across her path,
and dragged her bruised body through their twisted tops, moaning to
Peter and clutching tightly to the sheathed knife in her hand. And the
wild spirits that possessed the night seemed to gather about her, and
over her, exulting in the helplessness of their victim, shrieking in
weird and savage joy at the discovery of this human plaything struggling
against their might. Never had Peter heard thunder as he heard it now.
It rocked the earth under his feet. It filled the world with a ceaseless
rumble, and the lightning came like flashes from swift-loading guns, and
with it all a terrific assault of wind and rain that at last drove Nada
down in a crumpled heap, panting for breath, with hands groping out
wildly for him.

Peter came to them, sodden and shivering. His warm tongue found the palm
of her hand, and for a space Nada hugged him close to her, while she
bowed her head until her drenched curls became a part of the mud and
water of the trail. Peter could hear her sobbing for breath. And then
suddenly, there came a change. The thunder was sweeping eastward. The
lightning was going with it. The wind died out in wailing sobs among the
treetops, and the rain fell straight down. Swiftly as its fury had come,
the July storm was passing. And Nada staggered to her feet again and
went on.

Her mind began to react with the lessening of the storm, dragging itself
out quickly from under the oppression of fear and shock. She began to
reason, and with that reason the beginning of faith and confidence gave
her new strength. She knew that Jolly Roger would take this trail, for
it was the one trail leading from the Missioner's cabin through the
thick forest country north. And in half an hour he would not travel far.
The thrilling thought came to her that possibly he had sought shelter in
the lee of a big tree trunk during the fury of the storm. If he had done
that he would be near, very near. She paused in the trail and gathered
her breath, and cried out his name. Three times she called it, and only
the low whine in Peter's throat came in answer. Twice again during the
next ten minutes she cried out as loudly as she could into the darkness.
And still no answer came back to her thro